Read Online The Wildside Book of Fantasy: 20 Great Tales of Fantasy by Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Fritz Leiber, Gene Wolfe, Robert E. Howard, Paul di Filippo, Lin Carter, Tanith Lee, Clark Ashton Smith, E. Hoffmann Price, Thomas Burnett Swann, Brian Stableford, John Gregory Betancourt, Brian McNaughton, Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Lawrence Watt-Evans, Clive Jackson, Darrell Schwetizer, Achmed Abdullah
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long-nosed incredible fennec peered at us from a thicket and wriggled his snout in patent mistrust. A gazelle skittered across our path. Where was the phoenix?
“Ve sound like an army,” said Frey. “Ve ought to split up.”
Without waiting for approval, he veered away from our path.
Balder called after him. “Vait, Frey. You can’t go alone. There may be beasts.”
“I am fifteen! I don’t need my bruder everyvere.”
Balder shrugged helplessly. “It is no good to go after him.”
“We have to go after him,” I said. “He may get lost. And the birds—“
The sunbirds were following us. Their reptile eyes smoldered with hatred. They were avid for something to happen, and not, it seemed, to the phoenix.
Balder caught my concern and charged ahead of me, calling his brother’s name: “FREY. Frey. Frey-y-y-y!”
Echoes and silence and then the shrill mockery of the birds.
Again: “FREY. Frey. Frey-y-y-y.”
At last the answer: “Balder! Bar!” Urgent, desperate. A cry for help.
We found him in a clearing where the sun on the grass seemed a pool of fire and we drew up sharply to keep from burning our feet. There were two birds in the clearing, neither of them the phoenix; larger than eagles, as large as men, with the breasts and faces of women. Their black, mottled wings resembled the skin of a snake. Their armless bodies curved into talons and oily feathers. Harpies. Centuries ago they had plagued the Black Sea and harassed Jason and the Argonauts. Like thieves with a bag of gold, roughly yet greedily, they were lifting the now unconscious body of Frey. Balder ran at them and snatched, too late, at his brother’s feet. They circled over his head and cackled harshly, flaunting their capture. The sunbirds piped approval.
Eyes, mouth, nostrils: the features of women, but joined together as if by a child modeling with clay, the eyes unmatched, the mouths twisted, agape, the nostrils projecting into horny beaks. Twisted. That was the word for them. Neither women nor birds, but—Harpies, horrors. Circling a last time, showering us with the fetid oil from their wings, they rose among the treetops, jerkily, and disappeared. The landscape, blackened by their presence, flickered back into greenery.
Except that a Harpy remained, concealed, no doubt, to cover her friends’ retreat. I did not see her until she flew at my head. The first time she brushed me with her wings—caressed, I should say—wetly, intimately. The bare skin of my shoulders crawled with the slime of her. I heard her laugh. The second time she came at my face, talons lowered like hooks from a fishing boat. I stood my ground until she was almost upon me. Ducking under the talons, I whirled and seized her by the back of her legs. She dragged me after her; my sandals skidded along the ground. But I kept my grip until Balder came to my help. He seized my waist, and together we bore her to earth. She writhed fiercely, then, realizing her helplessness, relaxed and looked at us with the arch, simpering smile of an old woman who thinks herself young and beautiful.
“Where have they taken him?” I cried. “Where is your nest?”
Grinning, she remained silent. Balder struck her across the mouth. “I vill kill you unless you tell us.”
The simper became a pout.
“Perhaps she doesn’t understand,” said Balder, eyeing her doubtfully.
“She understands,” I said. “If not the words, the meaning. Kill her, Balder. We’ll find the nest ourselves.”
I had only meant to frighten her, but he took me at my word. He grasped her scrawny neck between his hands—big hands, those of a man, not a boy of sixteen—and began to choke her. By the time I had him stopped, she was ready to show us the nest.
She spoke in a kind of whistling, archaic Greek. “It is not far. I will show you.”
We bound her wings with the cord we had brought for the phoenix. Since she had no arms and needed her legs to stand or walk, she could not attack us with her
“Ve sound like an army,” said Frey. “Ve ought to split up.”
Without waiting for approval, he veered away from our path.
Balder called after him. “Vait, Frey. You can’t go alone. There may be beasts.”
“I am fifteen! I don’t need my bruder everyvere.”
Balder shrugged helplessly. “It is no good to go after him.”
“We have to go after him,” I said. “He may get lost. And the birds—“
The sunbirds were following us. Their reptile eyes smoldered with hatred. They were avid for something to happen, and not, it seemed, to the phoenix.
Balder caught my concern and charged ahead of me, calling his brother’s name: “FREY. Frey. Frey-y-y-y!”
Echoes and silence and then the shrill mockery of the birds.
Again: “FREY. Frey. Frey-y-y-y.”
At last the answer: “Balder! Bar!” Urgent, desperate. A cry for help.
We found him in a clearing where the sun on the grass seemed a pool of fire and we drew up sharply to keep from burning our feet. There were two birds in the clearing, neither of them the phoenix; larger than eagles, as large as men, with the breasts and faces of women. Their black, mottled wings resembled the skin of a snake. Their armless bodies curved into talons and oily feathers. Harpies. Centuries ago they had plagued the Black Sea and harassed Jason and the Argonauts. Like thieves with a bag of gold, roughly yet greedily, they were lifting the now unconscious body of Frey. Balder ran at them and snatched, too late, at his brother’s feet. They circled over his head and cackled harshly, flaunting their capture. The sunbirds piped approval.
Eyes, mouth, nostrils: the features of women, but joined together as if by a child modeling with clay, the eyes unmatched, the mouths twisted, agape, the nostrils projecting into horny beaks. Twisted. That was the word for them. Neither women nor birds, but—Harpies, horrors. Circling a last time, showering us with the fetid oil from their wings, they rose among the treetops, jerkily, and disappeared. The landscape, blackened by their presence, flickered back into greenery.
Except that a Harpy remained, concealed, no doubt, to cover her friends’ retreat. I did not see her until she flew at my head. The first time she brushed me with her wings—caressed, I should say—wetly, intimately. The bare skin of my shoulders crawled with the slime of her. I heard her laugh. The second time she came at my face, talons lowered like hooks from a fishing boat. I stood my ground until she was almost upon me. Ducking under the talons, I whirled and seized her by the back of her legs. She dragged me after her; my sandals skidded along the ground. But I kept my grip until Balder came to my help. He seized my waist, and together we bore her to earth. She writhed fiercely, then, realizing her helplessness, relaxed and looked at us with the arch, simpering smile of an old woman who thinks herself young and beautiful.
“Where have they taken him?” I cried. “Where is your nest?”
Grinning, she remained silent. Balder struck her across the mouth. “I vill kill you unless you tell us.”
The simper became a pout.
“Perhaps she doesn’t understand,” said Balder, eyeing her doubtfully.
“She understands,” I said. “If not the words, the meaning. Kill her, Balder. We’ll find the nest ourselves.”
I had only meant to frighten her, but he took me at my word. He grasped her scrawny neck between his hands—big hands, those of a man, not a boy of sixteen—and began to choke her. By the time I had him stopped, she was ready to show us the nest.
She spoke in a kind of whistling, archaic Greek. “It is not far. I will show you.”
We bound her wings with the cord we had brought for the phoenix. Since she had no arms and needed her legs to stand or walk, she could not attack us with her
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